Say it ain't so: No driving for Mr. Roadshow

I sat on a table in the doctor's office, my aching and discolored right foot dangling over the edge.

He looked at the X-rays, then gingerly gripped the area above my toes, pressed down and probably saw me grimace. I have something called Charcot foot, he said, a disease that can cause the bones to deteriorate.

No walking for six to eight months, the doc ordered, saying he was going to put me in a special boot and have me use a walker. I can go to work but must stay at my desk, and that's about it. He wants me to be as immobile as possible.

Then came the knockout punch: no driving for six to eight months, either.

What? I'm Mr. Roadshow! I've been covering Bay Area roads for 22 years, and I like to know what I'm talking about. I love getting into my Prius and checking out the impact of metering lights on Interstate 880, the seemingly endless construction at 85-101 in Mountain View and the latest controversy over red-light cameras in Fremont. From one end of the Bay Area to the other I have cheerfully motored to inspect the places you ask about, often with my golden retrievers in tow and an iced tea to sip.

But now I face what so many other older motorists fear: the day we can no longer get behind the wheel and go where we wish when we wish.

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It's a problem that threatens more and more of us. Nationally, there were 34 million licensed drivers older than 65 in 2010 -- accounting for 16 percent of all drivers -- and that was a 22 percent increase from 2001. There will be more than 40 million drivers 65 and older by 2020, according to the state Office of Traffic Safety.

Part of me is laughing at the irony of this. Geez, I'm only 61. Far too young to give up the car keys.

Steven Lorence thought so too until he suffered a stroke 15 years ago. He has not driven since, and he gets around in a power wheelchair. Now 69, the West San Jose resident says it took him three to four years to adjust to his loss of freedom.

"It was depressing for a while," he said, recalling how he enjoyed driving his Olds 88. "I love the freedom of being able to get into a car and just go wherever I wanted to go."

He was fortunate at first. His wife, Ella -- "the love of my life," he called her -- drove him everywhere. But she died of cancer about five years ago. Sometimes friends help him get around, but usually he takes paratransit or a VTA bus.

"He's got it exactly right," said John Locher of the Department of Motor Vehicles, who oversees the state's ombudsman program to help seniors keep their licenses. "It is depressing. You have lost your freedom and you're almost back in a childlike status of always having to ask someone for a ride. You're no longer an independent adult. For men especially, it can be a blow to their ego."

And there's another side of this story -- the impact on those who help us get from place to place.

For years Alison Sowell, of San Jose, has driven her 79-year-old mother, Marion, everywhere from Safeway to the doctor's office to the bank.

"Losing the ability to drive can be very stressful for most people," Sowell said. "Some of the main hurdles I encountered were my parents' resistance to having to be forced to rely on someone else. It can be embarrassing to have to constantly ask family and friends to give you a ride somewhere. You are at the mercy of their kindness and availability."

Sowell works full time in high-tech and has three children younger than 9.

"Constantly having to request time off of work has taken a huge toll on my reputation and career, as well as my salary," she said. "On the weekends, I have to take my children with me on (my mother's) errands and appointments and that can be quite taxing on everyone."

There are many organizations one can contact to find transportation options for nondrivers. Eventually, help may also come from technology, such as Google's driverless cars. When Google took one to Washington, D.C., last year, its first stop was at AARP headquarters in the nation's capital.

"Think about it," Locher said. "You're disabled or your reflexes aren't as sharp as when you were younger. But if the car can drive for you, wow!"

My physical problems make my own challenge tougher. I have been an amputee since I was 11, when bone cancer took my left leg above the knee. I underwent major back surgery last June. Now this right foot thing.

Mrs. Roadshow has been my savior. She does all the driving, runs all the errands and makes her wonderful biscotti to thank our helpers.

Seeing her radiant smile every night when she pulls into the Mercury News parking lot after fighting through jam-packed I-880 to take me home often leaves me with tears of happiness. She places the walker in the back of the Prius and reminds me to keep looking at a brighter future.

"In sickness and health," she often says, repeating words we uttered on our wedding day.